


say something

by minhoscallousedhands



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, F/M, im so sorry, this is p sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhoscallousedhands/pseuds/minhoscallousedhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you've read about minho being a total sweetheart. but how is he like when your relationship goes south?</p>
            </blockquote>





	say something

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been feeling super crappy and I’m sorry that all I write are sad stuff. I suck at writing happy things. For my trash buddy @badboygally (saveminho on tumblr, somehow i can't gift this work to you here..) Um.. Sorry.

 

_“sometimes sunshine turns to rain_

_and the same ones you love bring you pain”_

 

You and Minho sat side by side, close enough to sense each other’s presence, but not enough to meet his skin. His posture was as rigid as his clenched jaw, probably holding back the hurtful words he would repeat had you not keep your mouth shut earlier. The air in your living room was the thickest it’s ever been. It had quietly witnessed the unforeseen, painful, and slow descent of you and Minho’s relationship over the past six months. You studied his features-his frowning face, his darker than black eyes, his perfectly styled hair–rather desperately, searching for any clue that would help you find the Minho you used to know. It’s strange. He looked just the same. But the words he had chosen to greet you, call you, argue with, shout at you, had punched holes through your heart like a closely shot bullets. Those were not the words you thought Minho, your Minho, would ever use in any sort of conversation with you. Not even when he’s furious. Obviously, you thought wrong. You also didn’t know what went wrong. The change was so gradual, it allowed you to get used to them, and one day you woke up with a totally different person beside you inside the shell that you love so much. You tried, for the first time this evening, to reduce your wonderings into words.

“So.. What’s gonna happen.. To us?” as softly as possible, you asked the volatile man, fear screaming through your broken voice.

“Nothing.” he grunted shakily, gritting back the rest of the words he was dying to say. “We’re done.”

Your world came crashing down right that second, but you braved a stammering, “I thought you love me, Min.” You know you shouldn’t have let that escape your cold lips, but you’re hurt far too bad to bite it back. Predictably, Minho cocked his head towards you with eyes burning so bright in fury that you can almost see them turning red in your head.

“I’ve told you.” those mere words spat in a bark dissolved a section of your chest into oblivion, leaving a large aching hole.”So many fucking times. On so many different occasions.” his voice pierced your ears and his tone was thick in frustration. His veins peeked through the thin skin of his neck and temples as he continued shouting, “You never listen! Never! Not once! All you cared about was yourself! Why would you think I want to stay with someone so fucking selfish?”

“Selfish? How dare you, Minho. After all these years, how fucking dare you?” You were angry, but tears streamed down your cheeks as that familiar sinking feeling of a heartbreak radiated from your chest and all over your body. Your shuddering shoulders craved Minho’s arms to lock them in a warm embrace like they usually do when you start crying, because he knows you don’t cry much, but they weren’t there this time. He’s very good at this, making you feel like you’re in the wrong. And boy, does he always get his way.

“The last time you weren’t being selfish was years ago.” he hissed. “But now? Have you ever thought about my feelings, hm? Maybe not.” he snarled in between the gaps of the thick strands of your long hair that curtains over your lowered face, his heavy breath fanning over your right cheek. “You never fucking asked about it. All you did was nitpick whatever I was doing wrong to you. There’s no pleasing you. And God, not everything is about you! If I let you slide one more time I bet I would never hear the end of it. So no, no more of you, us, whatever the fuck this is.” He was very careful not to touch you, but the lack of contact was the thing that killed you second to his words. You wanted to at least hold hands to thaw his ice cold heart, but his fists were balled up on the couch, probably nicking a hole or two through it.

“Y-you-you could’ve j-just say so.” you struggled in between your violent sobs.

In a calm, venomous tone, Minho promptly jabbed, “Like you would like it if you have to tell me what to do to keep you happy.”

Touche.

God, did it ruin you, just when you thought this couldn’t possibly get worse. Your vision blurred and you could actually feel the pain caused by crying in your swollen eyes, runny nose and heaving chest. “Min, please, what are we doing?” you asked, averting your gaze from your lap to his face. He was starring into the wall in front of the both of you blankly, biting his lower lip. You finally mustered the courage to wrap your hand around his balled up fist, brushing your thumb over it to calm him and get his attention. “We can fix this. Please, baby.”

Maybe it was all he ever needed to completely simmer back into the man you had grown to love the past seven years. He sure had his issues, but you were always certain that you would bring out the best out of the troubled boy. You held on to the fact that you’re the only person he didn’t push away when his father left, or when his mother started verbally abusing him. It had to mean something. You had to be that special. All those nights you spent hiding him in your room because he didn’t want to be home had to amount to something. Those nights when he would want you to hold him, because deep within that seemingly emotionless shell, he just wanted to be loved and taken care of. So you did, you took care of the boy. You unselfishly did that and much more out of love but maybe, somewhere along the way, you grew tired of tending to his wounds and demanded him to be the stronger one. To be your rock. You cursed at how it seemed like it has to be either one or the other, but you felt pretty helpless. It’s been seven years and you feel that you couldn’t possibly throw everything away now.  _It is what it is. If it’s the only way to be with Minho, so be it._

He finally reached over your shoulders, enveloping you with the familiar warmth radiating from his firm chest and arms. “I’m so, very sorry.” he had lost all of the sharp edges to his tone and sadness took over you, him, the ambience, your framed pictures on the wall–everything added up to the moment. “I love you, but I’m not good enough.” Minho cried. “I’m never gonna be good enough for you, baby.”

“But-”

“Shh.”

He held you tightly for a good ten minutes, crying all the while. Seven years worth of love, anger and sadness had been reduced in a tearful ten minute hug, laced in the horror of you two parting ways. It had came to an end. Minho had given up and you know there was no way that you can love him enough for the both of you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself. It’s gonna ruin you too much.  _This is really it, then._  None of your thoughts or Minho’d sprung into existence. Your lips were shut in a painfully slow kiss by his lips before he let go of you and left you alone in your apartment. It was quiet, wordless, and not to mention extremely painful. 

Silence had never hurt your ears as bad as it did that evening.

That evening when Minho left you.


End file.
